On the realization I must grow up
by Platypan
Summary: The other title options were Fairy 2: a different story from Fairy 1 or Story formerly known as Fairy, so feel lucky, everybody. By the way, that juicylooking rating is completely misleading but there are kisses so I thought I should play it safe...1x2
1. The First Night

(This story is my baby. Out of the masses of stories choking my hard drive, in AIM chats, co-writes, crossovers, and bits of sheer inanity, this is the carefully tended favoured child whose feet never touch the ground. I started it on my birthday several years ago, and it's been through several rewrites, once even pruned back to three pages. It may bore everyone else-- it does take a bit to get going. It is, in a more literal sense than my others, a fairy tale, but it doesn't follow an established story. I hope someone likes it as much as I do. Thanks for reading!)

On the realization over the past few weeks that I must grow up. . .

FIRST NIGHT

6:37.  
6:38.  
Heero rolled over, and stared at the ceiling. He'd intended to get three hours of sleep after finishing all the paperwork the night before, in order to operate at top efficiency at the meeting with the chairman that day. The alarm went off at 6:43, and he turned it off. Then a seven minute shower, clothes, and out the door at six 'til. 

The bus pulled up as he walked through the door. Relena had taken the car with the settlement, along with enough to buy a house. It still felt odd, sometimes, now that she was gone, waking up in his ex-wife's old apartment. He'd started buying the cheaper coffee from the machine at work to leave exact change for bus fare. Not like cheap instant coffee had much delicate sensual variation in taste anyway.

He arrived first at the office, and began sorting the emails. His fingers sent them into Urgent, Secondary, and Asking Approval through long habit as he mentally phrased his advice on the sale of more stocks. He stirred up his oriental Cup O'Noodle for lunch, and sat it where it wouldn't make a mess cooking itself without taking his eyes from the screen. He replied to the CEO, and started to reply to the automated Happy Birthday message. He stopped, shaking his head, and ate his lunch. He'd passed Chive, the new head of engineering in the hall, and the man had stopped and wished him a happy birthday. 'Relena was in earlier. Nice little girl, isn't she? Did she come in and see you?' This was accompanied by a smirk. Heero kept his eyes on the screen.

'No.' His secretary rolled her eyes sympathetically.

The guy grinned wider, tugging his shirt-sleeves smooth. Heero caught another whiff of potent cologne. 'Nice little chickie. We went to lunch.' He waited. 

'I hope you enjoyed yourself.' The guy snorted in self-satisfied amusement and waved flirtatiously to Heero's secretary through the door. She twitched slightly.

At 3:00 he took a short break for coffee. $1.50 from his five left him $1.75 for bus fare home and in the next morning. That night he cashed his check at the bank near his apartment, and paid rent.

He finished with work by midnight, and went to bed early.

But couldn't sleep. 

He was being promoted again. He remembered first starting the job-- Relena had been sure he was qualified, and at her insistence he had met his boss, her father. She would have celebrated this. Taken him to lunch, remarked on how fitting it was his birthday. Been annoyed at the number of times he checked his watch . . continued her description of so-and-so's daughter's first day at school, the leather she'd chosen to reupholster her PT Cruiser with, and her appointment at the hairdresser's. Heero had accepted the promotion with the same demeanor, it suddenly occurred to him, that he probably would have had at being passed over. 

He looked for a long while at the white ceiling, eyes passing over the familiar thumbtack holes, occasionally lit by the buzzing malfunction of a streetlight outside. He watched the pattern until nearly dawn, before finally dozing off into a sleep heavy enough to not notice the sounds at his window.

These sounds were slight, but wondered greatly at by the window, who had not had someone come through it in a very, very long time.

He'd said he'd come and visit Relena, and he really really hoped she hadn't forgotten and left the window latched, because tapping might wake her parents, and he hated playing with locks. It was late, her parents shouldn't be up anyway-- but the window was open, and he landed on the carpet on his toes, and frowned.

There was no night light.

'There ought to be a night light.' he said softly.

He snapped, and a soft glow suffused the room.

It was the wrong room. His brain calculated frantically-- how long had it been?

There was no tiny, frilly fourposter-- no slender, carved white desk-- no overflowing pile of stuffed animals in one corner. No posters with dragons or horses on them, only the same pink walls and carpet, with a tall dresser, and a large bed . . . with eyes flicking past that bewildering presence, he focused on an Investigation. . . . . there was a picture on the dresser. Relena. But taller, her hair longer, her clothes . . sensible. And next to her-- he walked over to the bed. It was the same man. Duo took a deep breath, then set the picture down quickly, backing away from the bed. He walked slowly down the hall, into the front room, and sat on the arm of the couch. There was a dusty photo album on the table, and a burned DVD labeled 'Wedding.' He slid it into the player.

'And with this ring, I thee wed.' It was a movie, of Relena and the guy . . he thumbed though the album. Relena and a puppy, the guy watching. Relena laughing, the guy standing there. Relena trying on a long, frilly white dress, the guy watching. Her guiding his hand through cutting the cake before he again fell into the background. She was laughing and smiling effusively, but he vanished from the screen for some time. Duo occasionally caught a glimpse of him behind a pillar.

On the screen, Relena gibbered through hordes of congratulators-- 'Oh, hi! Haven't seen you in ages! Oh, you have kids, how are they?' . . . and the guy nodded, occasionally shaking hands.

Duo thumbed his nose at him.

The guy looked younger in the movie-- no line yet where he frowned, and even occasionally a flash of humour. The one in the pictures somehow managed to get progressively more stiff. He had apparently selected the first song for the dancing at the wedding-- the oldie, Sugar and Spice. Relena laughed at the selection, and danced part of the dance, before wandering off to talk with a friend. He slowly followed her, and was pulled over and introduced to a series of strangers in the way Duo identified as 'Look, I caught a cool snake!' Watching thoughtfully, his chin in his hands, he wondered whether Relena had remembered to punch holes in the lid of the jar.

In the movie, a rather drunk-looking woman staggered up to Relena, and Duo grinned, waiting. Heero nodded to her. 'Mother.'

'Heero,' she laughed. 'Out winning princesses, huh? Like a fairy tale? You picked a rich one!' She laughed harder, grabbing Relena's arm for balance. 'I was just thinking about you the other day.'

'Heero in a fairy tale?' Relena laughed, trying to gently disentangle herself.

The woman ignored this, shoving at him. 'You used to talk to Christmas lights, you know that? He said they were ma-gic,' she drew it out. ''Til your father taught you about electricity. Don't let him go telling your kids there's an Easter Bunny, honey.' She walked off. 

Duo reached over and turned it off, then thought. He put his hand down, blocking out this . . taller, sensible Relena in the picture. He had come back. He'd come back to the apartment to see her. He wondered where she was now. 'You promised,' he said softly, frowning. It was possible she was somewhere else, with the stuffed toys, the canopied bed that had so intrigued him. With her posters of princesses and horses running on the beach. Still waiting for his promised visit. Probably not. He shrugged, then turned his attention to 'Heero.' His fingers left golden, shimmering streaks on the clear plastic.

He walked into the bedroom, and grabbed Heero's arm, yanking him over to the edge of the bed. The set frown darkened, the eyes fluttering, but Duo quickly stroked the shimmering powder over the lids, and the breathing evened out, even the frown subsiding. Duo smirked, lowering his head, and kissed him.

His braid swung as he kicked off the floor, and he spun slightly in celebration as he sped off to play tag with the fountain in the park.

Heero jerked awake, as the loud, vacuum-like buzz of the alarm went off. His lips tingled, and he rubbed them absently. He didn't notice the moved picture. 

Tuesdays were like Fridays, Mondays like Wednesdays, and all proceeded as usual. 

At 3:00pm, he got up, went out, and put his five in the machine, but he accidentally pushed number six, mocha. He frowned. Mocha was a quarter more, so he would be short on bus fare. He took his change, and sipped his coffee as he walked back to his office. He paused, as the chocolate hit his tongue, and swirled the sip around in his mouth. That night, his briefcase lock inexplicably failed on the stairs, and he ran to see the back of the bus pulling away. He checked the times. Twenty-five minutes until the next bus. He sighed, and begin to walk.

When he got home, he noticed the line of dust around the album Duo had moved, and cleaned, smiling unexpectedly as his fingers brushed the golden dust. He put the album on a shelf. 

While boiling water, he got out his French coffee press and a cup of noodles, then thought, and got down and rummaged in the fridge. He pulled out a jar of chocolate syrup, and sat it next to the coffee. His mouth twitched, as he looked at his dinner, and he opened his briefcase, shuffling through what must be done by tomorrow morning. To his surprise, when he finished, undressed, and pulled back the blankets, his eyelids were already trying to close on their own. He fell asleep almost at once. 


	2. Cup o' Noodles

(Anyone still reading? Sorry this chapter is so short . . . the way this fic is written, things refer back and forth and it's hard to split the sections up. And the next section is weird and awkward and I don't know how to work it in. Oh well, now I've rediscovered this I'm determined. Thanks for reading!)

Cup o' Noodles

Duo leapt through the window, and tiptoed through the bedroom to the kitchen. The chocolate syrup jar was empty. He grinned, and carried on with his mission. He found the two-month stash of cup o' noodles, and shoveled them into a trash bag. He swung the bag at passing pigeons for a while, wondering what to do with it, then headed up to Fifth Avenue to drop Cup O' Noodles on women wearing fur coats.

The next day, Heero again bought an instant mocha from the machine and walked home, but swore when he opened his cupboard. 

He opened the other cupboards curiously. Pasta . . canned tomato stuff . . . spices, still well wrapped, probably still good. He dug out a pan and colander, and frowned at the lack of fresh garlic. He cut some fresh rosemary from the plant in the window box, and soon the complex and streets outside were filled with the smell. He let it simmer while he scrubbed out the cupboard under the sink, where the noodles had been. It had been windy walking home, and he was glad of his sweetened coffee. His hair stood up from the buffeting, and kept falling into his mouth-- he'd grown it to his shoulders for the wedding, as length alone forced it into admitting the existence of gravity. When the pasta was done, his mouth twitched as he tossed it to stick to the perfect pink wall. 

Duo sniffed ecstatically as he flew in the window, and helped himself. He'd been waiting for Heero to go to bed, sitting on the Not-Intended-For-Human-Bottoms railing, meeting glares with the neighbor's Persian, and he heaved a sigh of relief as the breathing in the bedroom finally evened. 

Heero slept uneasily, and Duo hovered over him, frowning down at him through crossed legs as he ate the spaghetti. 'I wonder what you'd look like if you woke up and saw me floating.' He laughed at this, and did a somersault in the air. He leaned over before he left, and kissed him again, and the frown smoothed, and the fists on the covers loosened. He left Heero the dishes.

The next morning, Heero took some of the pasta in a Tupperware, frowning at the amount left in the pan. Shallot looked over at the smell. "Takeaway, sir?"

He shook his head, struggling with keeping his papers tidy in the face of spaghetti sauce. He finally just pushed his chair away from the desk and ate near the window. "No, I actually cooked." 

Her eyes widened. "It smells delicious, sir." He smiled slightly, remembering the light layer of dust on the uncooked pasta. The view from his office window was impressive, once he lifted the blinds, and he sat looking at it for some time with the empty tupperware in his lap. After the company hour was up, he reluctantly stood, then returned and opened the window. The breeze smelled of fog, damp cement, and pigeons. 

On the walk home, he stopped in the little convenience store, and picked up bok choy, steak, some sort of brown sauce, and pretty coloured things for a stir fry. He stuck three jars of chocolate syrup in the basket, and frowned at the SPECIAL DOUBLE TALL MOCHA sign by the counter. Juggling his two bags with his latte cup on his way out, he wondered how long it had been. Glancing in a storefront window, he smiled slightly, and wiped the foam off his upper lip. 

(If anyone wondered, I'm using OCs because I couldn't see anyone from the GW universe in those roles. And yes, they are both named after vegetables. I don't know if anyone else from canon will make an appearance-- I'm liking the focus on Heero and Duo. Also, I have an incredibly limited attention span. If you read this and liked it, I'd be prostrate with grateful sobs if you clicked that 'review' button . . . thanks! ) 


End file.
